<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>New Heights by Edhie</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24358276">New Heights</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edhie/pseuds/Edhie'>Edhie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Steam Prison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Airship, Engineer - Freeform, F/M, Meet-Cute, Otome - Freeform, Romance, Science, Steampunk, Visual Novel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:41:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24358276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edhie/pseuds/Edhie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eltcreed Valentine, owner of the Valentine bank, governing head of Liberalitas, and representative of the Depths on the general council, is enjoying his busy and successful life. As a treat, he is helping prepare the wedding of his two closest friends, Ulrik and Cyrus. It seems that he has everything figured out for months to come.<br/>That is, until Eliza Nemory, a clever, reserved and snarky engineer, comes into his life, and sets him on track to fulfil a dream he thought he had forgotten, and a dream he never knew he had.</p><p>--</p><p>Multi-chapter work. I'll release the rest ASAP!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cyrus Tistella, Eltcreed Valentine, Eltcreed/OC, OC - Relationship, Ulrik Ferrie, Ulrik/Cyrus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eltcreed Valentine, owner of the Valentine bank, representative of the Liberalitas district, and by his own estimation an outstanding gentleman, was having a very good day. His glee was not due to the booming of his business, nor the slow quieting of the grumbles that had surrounded him since his ascension to power four years ago. Those only gave him a steady sort of relief: Eltcreed Valentine was not a vainglorious man. It was enough for him that his affairs followed their proper course, and that he had a hand in making both the Depths and the Heights a more peaceful, happier territory.</p><p>No, what delighted him was his involvement in the planning of a certain event, concerning two of his very close friends. The friends in question were unaware of the part he had assigned himself, and that made it all the more delightful. He had spent half his morning sending couriers to and fro and had secured many of the items and decorations that those two would welcome - probably. They did say they wanted a subdued wedding. Well, if they wanted that, they should have eloped. Dangling that sort of event before his nose and expecting him to stay out of it was unreasonable.</p><p>Eltcreed stifled a sigh and pushed his glasses up his nose. The desk before him was littered with official documents, and it was high time he focused on them; money did not make itself, and as a Valentine, he liked money well enough. Just as he picked up the paper on top of the precarious pile, he was interrupted by loud voices coming from below. His staff would deal with the commotion; he put his hands over his ears. But the noise made no sign of subsiding, and after what felt like several minutes, he looked over the balustrade.</p><p>A woman was standing in the middle of the floor. She was arguing at the top of her voice, and despite her slight frame, was pushing back two of his employees, who tried to corral her to the exit.</p><p>"Don't you dare touch me, you... you lowlife!"</p><p>Eltcreed smiled at the half-baked insult. The lady was pretty, albeit of the usual sort, and sounded spirited enough. But the disruption would not do; it would not do at all. The bank had a reputation, and he intended to uphold it. He stifled another sigh, observing with great philosophy that no day could be absolutely perfect. Then he made his way downstairs.</p><hr/><p>Eliza Nemory, the recent owner of Nemory &amp; Co, was having a terrible day. It started when her cat, Mr. Paws, spilt what milk she had left onto the kitchen table. It was not lost on him, and he lapped it up so thoroughly she forewent the clean-up; but as for her, she had to leave home with a grumbling stomach. Perhaps that explained her distraction: after a few steps outside, her left foot slid from under her, her arms shot to the sides, grabbing for purchase and finding none, and she landed on her bottom with a dull thump. The quick investigation she led while rubbing her sore backside uncovered the culprit: a candy wrap that had slid itself under her heel. A small flock of children on the other side of the street snickered at her misfortune, then looked away in pretend innocence. She considered dragging two of them by the ears for a few dozen feet, but one glance at her watch dissuaded her. She was late. She was very, very late. Leaving the offenders to their nasty glee, she broke into a mad run, bowled over three portly ladies, jumped over four dogs, and made it to her company's office dishevelled, sweaty, but right on time.</p><p>It should have gone smoothly from then on: some appointments with prospective clients, likely leading to nothing, a quick lunch made of whatever she could afford (parsnips?), many hours spent drawing plans and formulas, and a quiet walk home, carefully avoiding all the candy wraps in her path. A good enough day - if only it weren't for those damned debt collectors.</p><p>They were waiting for her at the office and leaned into her the moment she crossed the threshold. She barely had time to push her hair out of her eyes before the two of them were in her face, demanding money in squeaky voices.</p><p>“The payment was due a month ago. Unacceptable…”<br/>“Giving us the runaround! What did you think would happen?”<br/>“The payment facilities you have are not stringent…”<br/>“Mr Valentine is very generous but you abuse -”</p><p>“Enough!” Eliza felt her blood press on her temples so hard her head was about to burst, and it exploded in her tone. “Enough,” she repeated, more quietly, to the stunned men.</p><p>“Gentlemen, you're aware my father passed away but three months ago. I can't repay his loans just now. I told you as much - I need time to get the company’s affairs in order.”</p><p>The tallest of the two men bared his teeth like a feral fox.</p><p>“That’s not our problem.”</p><p>“It’s not Mr Valentine’s problem,” added the shorter one, the pitch of his voice growing ever higher. If he hiked it any more, her eardrums would burst. “Mr Valentine doesn’t run a charity. You need to pay your loans on time. That’s just good sense.”</p><p>“Mr Valentine only expects good sense,” the taller one rejoined.</p><p>“Well, perhaps I should ask Mr Valentine himself what he thinks!” She had had quite enough of these two. “If he’s the sensible man you say he is, he’ll listen to reason.”</p><p>The two men looked at each other. There was some hesitation there, and she was ready to exploit it.</p><p>“Mr Valentine is too busy to talk to the likes of you,” the shorter man said.</p><p>“We’ll see about that!” She shooed them out and slammed the door in their faces, to the dismay of the two clients seated in her waiting room. Not the best introduction, but there was no helping it.</p><p>Eliza straightened her skirt with as much dignity as she could muster, wiped the sweat from her cheeks, and turned to her audience.</p><p>“Good morning gentlemen, and thank you for waiting. I will receive you now.”</p><hr/><p>The appointment went as she expected. They eyed her plans, and she could see the cogwheels in their brains turning, trying to remember a line here, a measure there - in the hope, she knew, to give those hints to another engineer, one who was more established, more famous, and possibly male. They left after assuring her they were impressed, sharing their condolences, congratulating her on inheriting her father’s business, and avoiding any promise to hire her, or even contact her again. She stared at her hands for two good minutes, her spirits low and her head blank. But she could not afford to feel down for long. She got up, went to the mirror, straightened her attire, and made her way to the bank.</p><p>The Valentine Bank had its headquarters in a large building, drawn in a beautiful, unusual architecture, inspired by the Heights. It was no secret that the current bank director had a fascination for anything Heights-related, as had his father before him. Eliza had always appreciated that fact. Limiting your knowledge to your little corner of the world seemed narrow, almost churlish to her. Her own father had thoroughly researched Heights technology, and had found much to learn from it, which had fuelled the success of his business, until… Well, no use thinking about that now. She steeled herself and pushed the heavy doors open.</p><p>The clerk at the entrance was the ideal of his profession: a short, thin man, with a bald head and small round glasses. He eyed her from above those, and she chuckled inside.</p><p>“Good morning. I’m here to see Mr Valentine, please.”<br/>“Do you have an appointment?”<br/>“I don’t, but this is urgent.”<br/>“Then please send a note to make an appointment and we'll reply in due time - if Mr Valentine has any available space in his schedule.”<br/>“I can’t wait that long…”</p><p>But the clerk was back to looking at his papers in utter disinterest. Eliza took a deep breath and strode into the bank.</p><p>“Miss, where do you think…?”</p><p>She was already past him, her long legs carrying her to where she suspected the big boss would be: somewhere deep into the building, perhaps upstairs. She heard noise behind her, then noise around her, and she walked faster, into a large open space overhung by a wide balcony. A silhouette sat at a desk there, overseeing everything. It had to be him. She took another step forward - and bumped into two frames, a small one, and a taller, toothy one; the collectors from earlier.</p><p>“Moonlighting as security guards, are we?” She was in no mood to talk to them again. “Let me pass.”</p><p>“Like hell we will,” the small man said. “We told you, Mr Valentine has no time for you.”</p><p>“I’ll come up and wait until he frees himself. No man alive doesn’t have five minutes to spare.”</p><p>“You won’t.” The tall man shot his hand out and grabbed her arm. She pushed him back with all her might and his short acolyte for good measure. Surprised, they stumbled backwards.</p><p>"Don't you dare touch me, you... you lowlife!” She had much choicer words for them, but she did not care to make more of a scene than she already had. She just wanted to see Valentine, damn it. If only she could explain her situation to him… He was an intelligent man and a good leader. He would understand. She ground her teeth in frustration and tried to shake the two lapdogs off her. To her surprise, they let go. The noise around had stopped. Everyone’s eyes turned to the main staircase, and Eliza followed them.</p><p>A tall man was climbing down the steps. He was elegant and well built, dressed in an outfit that was somewhat eccentric but suited him well enough. More importantly, he looked benevolent, almost kindly. Eliza’s spirits lifted. It this was Valentine - and she was certain it was - her problem was about to be solved.</p><p>The man walked up to her with a smile and stopped in front of her.</p><p>“My apologies, Miss. My employees are keen to respect the rules, but they shouldn’t have manhandled you. Are you all right?”</p><p>“I’m quite all right, thank you.” She smiled back at him. “I was here to see you and they wouldn't let me through.”</p><p>He looked lost for a moment.</p><p>“To see me? Have we met before? I don’t recall…”</p><p>“No, no. Nothing like that. My name is Eliza Nemory and I’m one of your debtors. Well rather, my father was, but he died some weeks ago. I’ve been trying to put his company - my company - in order. It will take me a little time, but I will manage, I will pay everything back, just not right now - I’ve been telling them this, but they won’t listen.”</p><p>“Her debt’s been due for a month, Mr Valentine,” the smaller collector said.</p><p>“I see.” Valentine’s voice had dropped. When he turned back to her, although he was still smiling, his eyes had no warmth. They were firm and serious behind his glasses, and she knew immediately she had lost. He bent over her and put a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“I understand your circumstances are difficult, Miss Nemory, and I’m sorry for your loss. However, my bank cannot simply erase or postpone a debt <em>sine die</em>. I’m sure you understand.”</p><p>“But the debt is very large… I can work my way to it in a few months, a year perhaps, but right now I…”</p><p>“A year is a very long time, Miss Nemory.” The softness in his tone, the weight of his hand - there was more condescension there than kindness, and she hated it. “May I ask you - does your father’s company have healthy finances? Is it profitable right now?”</p><p>Eliza shook her head. The company was in dire straits, there was no denying that.</p><p>“Then if your company is in the level of debt that requires a year to repay, perhaps you should consider selling it? Surely the assets...”</p><p>That made her snap.</p><p>“Do not tell me what to do,” she said, enunciating every word. Valentine removed his hand from her and took a step back.</p><p>“My apologies, I was simply offering a solution.” He looked at her for a moment, and she saw no opening in his face at all. “As I said, I have sympathy for your loss, Miss Nemory. I will give you a week to figure out how to repay your debt. Please don’t drag it out any longer.” With that, he turned his back to her.</p><p>Her throat shut down and she felt powerless tears prick at the back of her eyelids. Her anger overspilt.</p><p>“I had heard you were a man of knowledge, that you were fair and kind. I can see now your reputation was unearned.”</p><p>Valentine paused for a moment, and she thought she heard him snicker. Then he walked on.</p><p>The noise around Eliza resumed. The debt collectors, the other employees - everyone gave her a wide berth. She had asked and had been denied; it was clear there was nothing more she could do. In a daze, she turned around and walked out of the bank.</p><hr/><p>Eltcreed Valentine watched the young woman leave the atrium. Her steps were small and sad, her back was hunched. Nothing unexpected there - she was processing the information he had given her. She would make the non-choice eventually, he was sure of that. It was as it should be. No point in her hanging onto a dead business, and he would be able to get most of his money back if not all. His reaction was right and had not been cruel. Then why did he feel like something was amiss? He went through the conversation in his mind again, turned it around, focused on its parts.</p><p>She had heard that he was fair and kind? He doubted that. His people liked him well enough, and he was fair enough, but kind was not a word he’d heard whispered about him - which was just as well. He could not afford to show weakness.</p><p>“Nemory,” he said her name aloud. It sounded familiar. He had not met her before, he was reasonably sure of that. Then what did it remind him of? It was more than a debt collection file. It felt like something important, in fact. He sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and let his memory sort itself out.</p><hr/><p>Eliza spent the afternoon walking around Liberalitas. After leaving the bank, she stopped at a food stall and got a jacked potato with nothing but butter on it. It was unrefined food, but it was cheap; it filled her stomach, and let her focus on her thoughts. There was no illusion of choice for her in that situation, and Valentine knew it, damn him. In truth, she had thought about selling the company before, but it felt so wrong her bones whined at the prospect. That was the company her father had built from scratch. She had grown up in his office, huddling next to his legs, listening to him talk about force, resistance, mass and energy. Her father had lived for that company - had died for it. Selling it... It felt like a betrayal, like he would die all over again.</p><p>Yet she had to. If the debt remained unpaid, the company would be seized anyway, and as for her... She had heard stories. She had not believed them, but now, after seeing Eltcreed Valentine's cold eyes, she found that she could. On the other hand, if she repaid the debt, perhaps she could find a job as an engineer somewhere else, low on the ladder, and if she lived frugally, in a few years' time, she could buy the company back. She tried to cling to the illusion but it would not stick - she was not stupid. She knew the company would likely be scrapped for assets, then dismantled into dust. That was it. That was the end of the line. The years spent studying, the months spent toiling, it was all for nought - she had failed. She felt a bitter taste in her mouth and stopped to catch her breath.</p><p>Her steps had carried her along a familiar path, to a bar next to her old alma mater. There were joyous noises coming from inside - younger students gathering in the first evenings of spring, drinking their stipend. She dug her hand into her pocket, checked how much money she had left. Not much, but enough for a drink or three. She would just have to choose them strong and to make them last. She walked through the warm doorway.</p><p>By the time she crossed it in the other direction, night had fallen. She had had three brandies, straight, and everything felt lighter. Her mind was floating above the issues of the day, and she was mocking herself in bird's eye, the woman unwilling to let go of her father's legacy, who would rather kill herself at the task than do the reasonable thing. Valentine. He was right, but Saint, she hated him.</p><p>He was one of the richest men around. He had bought his army, bought his power. He was a good enough ruler, but it was easy to be good when no one was breathing down your neck. The amount she owed to him - did it even signify? For her, it meant the world, but for him, it was less than a day's income. Oh, she understood the principle. But she hated him, without reason or restraint. Just for tonight. Just for tonight let her hate him, rather than herself. And tomorrow she would do the only thing that she could, find a buyer, and see everything that had mattered to her be swallowed up for good.</p><p>She stumbled as she neared her home. The night air was too warm to clear the alcohol from her brain - or perhaps she did not let it. She had chosen drink over supper, and she would damn well make the feeling last.</p><p>The world around her was hazy, so much that the wall next to her door seemed to come alive. The bricks coalesced into a dark spot, something almost human-shaped. She thought of screaming, but decided against it - a wall would do her no harm. Just as she passed by the illusion, it spoke to her, in a voice she had heard earlier that day.</p><p>"Miss Nemory?"</p><p>She turned around. For an illusion, this was a bit much. It looked in every particular like the object of her bad will, Eltcreed Valentine, the nightmare banker - same height, same coat, same glasses.</p><p>She chuckled. She was farther gone than she had thought, but all right, if the world gave her that chance to let it out, she would seize it.</p><p>She came close to the wall and jabbed it with her finger, once, twice, three times.</p><p>"I hate you," she said to it. "I really do. I hate your guts."</p><p>The wall took a step back and looked at her with worried eyes.</p><p>"You're drunk," it said.</p><p>She stopped, her hand suspended mid-air, and a cold feeling crept through her, starting at her fingertip. This was much too soft for a wall. Besides, it spoke and commented on her state with great accuracy. There was only one possible conclusion, no matter how odd: this was not a wall. This was Eltcreed Valentine, in person, standing by her front door.</p><p>"Oh Saint." She should apologise. She did hate him, but that was between her and her own mind. She opened her mouth, but he spoke first.</p><p>"How drunk are you? I wanted to discuss something, but this might be a bad time."</p><p>He did not look angry. In fact, he looked thoroughly amused, which made her relieved and irritated in equal parts. However, the potential in his sentence came through to her, even in her state.</p><p>"I'm not that drunk. Sorry. I need some water, and we can talk. I apologise. Just a glass of water..."</p><p>She fumbled in her pocket for her keys, and as she pulled them out, he took them from her hand with a sigh.</p><p>"You were so frightening in my bank earlier, so strong and mighty, and now look at you. Oh, the ravages drink inflicts on the best of us!"</p><p>He was mocking her, and openly. She grasped for a retort, found only cotton and haze, and her frustration grew. He laughed again.</p><p>"Don't strangle me just now, hear me out first." Then he pushed the key into the door and ushered her in as if he owned the place. Eliza swallowed her annoyance and stepped inside.</p><hr/><p>Eltcreed did not enjoy taking people at a disadvantage. He enjoyed building up that disadvantage as the negotiations moved along, playing his cards right, and seeing the situation turn out as he wanted, after a bit of healthy challenge. Under normal circumstances, he would have left when he saw how drunk the woman was and come back the next day. But she was entertaining as she was now, ready to hiss at him like a cat. Besides, the offer he had for her was a no-brainer - she would take it, and he was more excited about it than anything else in the past few years. He waited until she walked inside and switched on the lights, then politely followed.</p><p>The first thing he smelled was spilt milk. The second thing he felt was something pointy piercing his calf. He yelped in pain.</p><p>Eliza Nemory turned around and frowned at him, then swept her eyes down, and they widened.</p><p>"Mr. Paws! Let go this instant!"</p><p>She caught it by the scruff of the neck and lifted it up. It was a cat, a large, ugly thing, with round yellow eyes and thick yellow fur. Suspended in the air, it mewled pathetically and moved its paws as if to take flight.</p><p>Eltcreed laughed and rubbed his leg where the animal had bitten him.</p><p>"Like owner, like pet," he said, and read in the woman's eyes that she considered siccing the cat on him, closer to the throat. He felt his laughter rise stronger, mastered himself before the outburst killed the negotiations. Instead, he extended his hand and scratched the cat on its exposed belly, in the way cats enjoyed it. It looked at him in confusion, then lashed out again, but too late - Eltcreed had removed his hand and was now busy poking the animal's paws at a fast pace. The cat looked left and right, always too slow by a fraction to catch the offender, its eyes crossing from the effort.</p><p>A chuckle floated above them, and the cat crumpled into a ball of standing fur, held firmly by two arms.</p><p>"Enough. What are you, a child?" Miss Nemory was looking at him with perplexity, as well as some amusement, but much less hatred. That was good. They might get somewhere after all.</p><p>Eltcreed cleared his throat.</p><p>"You mentioned water." He walked to the sink, found two glasses, poured water for both of them, and brought it to the kitchen table.</p><p>The woman grumbled.</p><p>"I wish you'd stop behaving as if you were home."</p><p>"You're welcome," Eltcreed answered, and gestured for her to sit down.</p><p>She did so, reluctantly. The cat lay down on her thighs, purred from the caress of her hand, and gave Eltcreed the evil eye. He reflected for a moment on the strange fate that had brought him to be now seated in a small kitchen with two irate beings, instead of floating from party to party somewhere on the main street. Overall, he thought he might enjoy this better. Miss Nemory finished her glass of water and set it down on the table with a thunk - not the loud thunk of a drunkard, but the impatient thunk of someone who had no time to waste. All right then. Eltcreed smiled at her.</p><p>"Miss Nemory. Your father was Alistair Nemory, is that right?"</p><p>"It is." Her answer was curt and to the point. He liked that.</p><p>"I thought so. See, once you left my establishment, something kept nagging at me. With the knowledge that I had then, I believe I gave you the right advice..." She looked down. So she knew it, too. Good for her - she was a quicker thinker than he feared she'd be.</p><p>"... But it didn't feel like the perfect advice, for some reason. Then I remembered why. I met your father a few years ago."</p><p>At that, her eyes flew to him, and Eltcreed saw her interest redouble. The woman had loved her father and no mistake.</p><p>"On what occasion?"</p><p>"I'm getting to it. See, before I had the opportunity to take the reigns of this district, I had a pet project. It was an exploratory research enterprise, and I needed a lot of engineering firepower to pull it through. I hired many competent people to work on it, but their progress was slow, every experiment failing. That's when I heard the name of a man whose experiments had gone farther than all the others combined, a man who had researched that very project for many years. That man was your father. Can you guess what the project was, Miss Nemory?"</p><p>To his surprise, she was looking at him again with murder in her eyes.</p><p>"Get out."<br/>He recoiled at the unexpected hatred.</p><p>"Please let me finish."</p><p>"I will not. Why are you here? To mock me? To rub salt in the wound?"</p><p>"Not at all! I believe in your father's dream; I -"</p><p>"In his pipe dream, you mean? Airships are impossible. They cannot be done. He tried and he tried and he tried, and it all unravelled, everything unravelled because of it... And then your bank... How can you..."</p><p>She was suffocating and Eltcreed saw her on the verge of tears. He stood up, bowed to her.</p><p>"I apologize, Miss Nemory. I can see now I had no grasp on the situation. I truly am sorry. Before I go, I would still like to lay out my offer to you, in case you find it preferable to the alternative. I don't believe airships are impossible. I trust they can be done, and I'm bent on doing them. If you find it in you to apply your father's teachings to that goal, I will be happy to take your work for me as repayment of your debt. That is what I came to say. Please accept my deepest apologies for upsetting you. Have a good night."</p><p>With that, Eltcreed turned around and pushed the door open. Just as he closed it behind him, he heard her quiet sob. He balled his hands into fists. He understood her pain very well, but there was nothing he could do for her. Whatever conclusion she reached, she would have to do so on her own. Burdened by his own memories and thoughts, he followed the path back home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three days after her conversation with Valentine, noon found Eliza sober, hungry, and in mild despair. She had just left the house of her father’s former colleague, who she had hoped would make her an offer to buy the company’s assets. Indeed, an offer had been made, a third one - and another one below her expectations. She tallied the results of her efforts: twelve appointments in the span of two days, resulting in three bids, ranging between one fifth and one third of the money she needed. Each one came accompanied with the same sentence, said or implied: “I used to be your father’s friend. I’ll do it in loving memory of his heyday.” It was humiliating.</p><p>Besides, the money she would gain would serve to stall the Valentine dogs, but it would not solve all her issues. She would need to find a job, fast, and keep repaying the remainder of her debt for years onwards. It was dire. And yet, not as dire as agreeing to work with that damned… At the thought of Eltrcreed Valentine, Eliza’s eyes narrowed, her teeth clenched and her fingers curled.</p><p>She could not consider their conversation without rising resentment. Everything about it made her hiss: that he had come by unannounced, late at night. That he had behaved as if he was the master of the house. That he had made his idiotic proposal - without consideration for her situation, she thought at first, but now, Eliza realised, without having attempted to understand it at all. She felt stupid for thinking he would be aware of the specifics; her father was only a name on a file for him, and his collectors had hounded him like they hounded her, without interest or resentment, on mere principle, because debts have to be repaid.</p><p>But worst of all was a thought Eliza refused to fully formulate: he had borne witness to her fragility. He had seen her drunk, seen her angry, then he made her laugh and made her hope, and finally, he made her cry. She shuddered. Drinking too much was on her; but then again, she had only expected to go home and sleep off her anguish. All those emotions he had prodded were hers, and hers only. That cold stranger had no right to them. He had no right to extend her his compassion. It was a worthless, empty thing, only good for dredging the muddy pit of her pain.</p><p>She was of half a mind to accept the collaboration, if only to see Valentine throw his money at a project without a future. After all, if it solved her issue and emptied his coffers, it would be a win in every respect. But the idea of seeing him daily was intolerable.</p><p>“Dad,” she whispered, and bent her head. She ignored the food stalls on her way and proceeded to her last appointment - the last of her father’s friends and partners, the last person who might help her out.</p><hr/><p>Three days after his conversation with Miss Nemory, twilight found Eltcreed reclined on his couch, a glass of bourbon in hand and a sly smile on his face. Across from him, a younger, green-haired man was eyeing him with impatience.</p><p>“You don’t even know if she’ll accept. She probably won’t. Now that you went and pissed her off.”</p><p>“She might not,” Eltcreed agreed. “But my sweet Ulrik -“ the young man puckered his lips in disgust “- now that I’ve got the idea back in my head, I cannot simply ignore it, can I? If she doesn’t come around, you’ll just have to work it out on your own.”</p><p>Ulrik stuffed a biscuit into his mouth and spoke between bites.</p><p>“What if I don’t want to?”</p><p>“Come, come. You’re sitting on a pile of books larger than the Heights. Your forefather, it turns out, was an engineer of fabulous ability. Aren’t you a little curious to put that knowledge of yours to some use?”</p><p>Ulrik looked away. Eltcreed knew the young man was hooked by the prospect - now to reel him in properly.</p><p>“Besides, don’t you think Cyrus would be happy if your job entailed less running around across dangerous places, and more coming home at regular hours?”</p><p>“Don’t you dare bring her into this.” Ulrik looked at him with a hint of genuine anger.</p><p>Eltcreed laughed.</p><p>“What, now you’re getting married, I’m not even allowed to say your beloved’s name? I’ll not steal her from you just by mentioning her, you know. Although if you insist on doing odd jobs instead of taking care of her, I might just swoop in and…”</p><p>“You damned…” Ulrik was rising from his seat, his face red and tight, and Eltcreed could not help it - his glee came out loud and true, and he held his ribs to keep them from shaking. Ulrik sighed and fell back down. “Idiot. You damned idiot. Why do I let you get a rise out of me?”</p><p>Eltcreed drew a little heart with his fingers in lieu of explanation, but Ulrik looked away.</p><p>“Enough,” he groaned. “I’ll do it. But you know we’ll need a licensed engineer anyway. What are you going to do when you never hear back from the woman?”</p><p>“Don’t write off Miss Nemory just yet. She’s smart enough. Selling her company will only take her so far - that’s not where her best interests lie.”</p><p>Ulrik ignored his explanations.</p><p>“Why haven’t you gone back to ask her again? Maybe she’s sold the company already.”</p><p>That was a distinct possibility and Eltcreed knew it. Indeed, he should have forestalled that risk by checking back on her the next day - to come in penitent and apologetic, to demonstrate better understanding, to give her the illusion of an upper hand. That was all textbook. But every time he considered it, he heard her muffled sob in his mind, and he pushed the idea away.</p><p>Her father, he now knew, had ruined himself trying for an airship. He had come to his bank for loans - but not to him personally, the stupid, proud man - and then no loan had been enough. He had died in a back alley, no one knew of what, in a fight, of drink, or of despair, and left his daughter alone to deal with the fallout. If Miss Nemory was like her father, then her pride would stand in her way, too. But to sap that pride - that was not something Eltcreed found he was willing to do. She would join him, or she would not. He would not toy with her decision.</p><p>He raised his eyes and met Ulrik’s. His friend had been watching him intently. For all his rude and indifferent airs, he was a subtle man, and being in love had made him more perceptive.</p><p>Eltcreed braced for the joke he could feel come his way, some sort of jab at his weakness before pretty women, or his laziness, or some other of his flaws. But Ulrik closed his mouth and looked at his biscuit. More perceptive, indeed. Soon he would become too smart to be around comfortably. Eltcreed smiled at the thought.</p><p>A loud noise sounded outside and both men’s hands jumped to their guns. The mood shifted as they looked at each other.</p><p>“Another poor sod aiming for your life and about to lose an arm?” Ulrik said.</p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>Eltcreed stood up and walked to the front door, listened through it. What he heard were voices - two men and one woman. He recognised his guards first. Then a minute later, he recognised her. His hand fell away from his hip, and his face relaxed. He pushed the doors apart and stroke a pose between them, fantastically emphasised, he hoped, by the light inside the house.</p><p>“Miss Nemory. How is it that every time you come see me, you rough my people up?”</p><p>Indeed, there she was, pushing against his seasoned troops in the same way she had shoved his collectors. Her face was even angrier now than then, but unlike then, her anger did not subside when she saw him. He signalled to his guards to let her pass, and she marched to him, her right hand clutching her left shoulder. As she came into the light, Eltcreed realised with concern that her sleeve was wet and red under her fingers. No doubt, that was fresh blood - she had stopped so close to him he could smell its iron. She looked him in the eye and asked:</p><p>“Are you responsible for this?”</p><hr/><p>Mrs Crompton had always been kind to Eliza and her father. When Alistair Nemory’s situation took a turn for the worse, and while everyone’s visits became fewer and farther apart, Mrs Crompton appeared every Sunday, a plate of sweet or savoury delights in her arms, and kept them company for an hour or two. That same sort of delights were now laid out before Eliza on the coffee table.</p><p>“Come, child, have a sausage roll. They will not keep if we don’t eat them.”</p><p>Mrs Crompton’s invitation was made in a soft, patient voice, and Eliza found it was more than her empty stomach could resist. She took the sausage roll gingerly, shot a glance at her host, and reassured by the benevolence she found on her face, bit into it. It was fat and soft, melting in her mouth with a taste of salt, herbs and farm. It was the best thing she had had in weeks. She stifled a sigh of pleasure and opened her mouth to speak - but Mrs Crompton stopped her with a gentle wave of her hand.</p><p>“I’ve heard from our friends that you’re looking to sell the company’s assets, to repay dear late Alistair’s debts. Is that so?”</p><p>Eliza nodded.</p><p>“Ah, that’s so brave of you. For all his vast intelligence, your father could never see reason the way you have.”</p><p>Eliza felt unpleasant surprise course along her spine. People were talking about her circumstances - and comparing her to her father. Making fun of her father, likely, of his naive ideals, of his vast, fragile heart. She cast her eyes down.</p><p>Taking her tightened jaw for a sign of grief, Mrs Crompton continued. “I know it must cost you to reopen this wound, my dear. I’ve seen how you’ve been trying to blaze your own path with the company, despite the pain you must be feeling. But you’ll have other, better occasions. In a few years, you can start a business of your own, on your own terms. It’ll be a fresh page. A new adventure. Much more exciting, isn’t it?”</p><p>Eliza had trouble agreeing - but this was not the time for misgivings. She gripped her skirt.</p><p>“Indeed, Mrs Crompton. Although it’ll take more than a few years, as I need to repay my debts before I can think of starting anything.”</p><p>“Isn’t that what selling the assets is for?”</p><p>“The sale will not cover all the money I owe.”</p><p>Mrs Crompton’s eyebrows rose above her pince-nez, drawing after them a melodious chuckle, as soft and smooth and spicy as the sausage roll Eliza had eaten.</p><p>“That’s for the buyer to decide, don’t you think? And it so happens I’m the prospective buyer.”</p><p>She bent forward, and spoke to Eliza as if in confidence.</p><p>“Here’s the offer I have for you: I will not buy your assets. Instead, I will buy your company, with all its debts.”</p><p>Eliza’s lungs stopped mid-gulp. What had Mrs Crompton just said? It seemed impossible, so impossible Eliza would have thought it a jest - but Mrs Crompton was not adept at those. She blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.</p><p>“What? Why?”</p><p>Mrs. Crompton sat back and gave another chuckle.</p><p>“Ah, you’ve always been so honest. You’ll need to work on that if you wish to own a business someday. But I for one appreciate it! Don’t you worry, I’m not doing this for charity. Dear Alistair had many devices, plans and clients I’m interested in. His assets will complement mine fruitfully. I should make up my investment in a few years, and that’s good enough for me.” She said nothing of what it meant for Eliza.</p><p>Indeed, for Eliza it was a perfect miracle, an unthinkable way out. Sell all the debts away, and be free - free to find work she enjoyed, free to live comfortably, free to start again… Her stomach fell. Free to leave her father behind. Free to sell his dreams for her own peace of mind. Free to betray him.</p><p>Her hand clutched her skirt again, but she found no steadiness there. She grasped for the expected answer, thank you Mrs Crompton, forever in your debt, wonderful, how can I ever repay you. But the words would not come.</p><p>Mrs Crompton’s eyebrows slid all the way down to a frown.</p><p>“Child… Don’t tell me you’re hesitating. I was under the impression your mind was made.”</p><p>Eliza probed herself. Her feelings were unsettled, but so were her thoughts. Something about Mrs Compton’s offer did not sit well with her.</p><p>“Mrs Compton, I beg your pardon, but you must be aware my father’s clients are all gone. All that’s left is assets, and they’re not worth that much.”</p><p>“Let me worry about that, child. What do you care about these things? You cannot be attached to your father’s company, not after everything that’s happened. You’re only grieving. I understand that, believe me, and this sale business is coming sooner than we’d all wish. But it would have come eventually, you know it, don’t you? At least you can leave it all behind you now.”</p><p>I don’t want to leave anything behind me, Eliza wanted to answer. I’d be happy as I am now, if not for the debts. And why are you so intent that I should? What is it to you? She kept silent.</p><p>Mrs Crompton sighed and cocked her head.</p><p>“My dear Eliza. You don’t have a better option, do you?”</p><p>She had a point. Eliza started to shake her head, then stopped. She did have another option. Whether it was better… No, it was objectively worse, was it not? Valentine’s face flashed through her mind, his sarcastic eyes, cold and ruthless, yet so earnest when he had mentioned her father’s research. Next to her memory, she saw Mrs Crompton’s eyes, always so kind and warm, and in them she saw like quicksilver a flash of surprise, and of pale, frozen malice. It was gone in a beat; if anything, Mrs Crompton’s smile grew wider, her tone grew sweeter. But for the first time in their acquaintance, Eliza found those pieces did not fit.</p><p>“Whatever hope you may cling to now will only forestall the inevitable, my dear child. I fear you'll chase an illusion and find yourself worse off in the end. If the company declines further, it might be beyond even me to rescue.” She paused, and Eliza felt the thinness of her solicitude. “And what will you do then? Dear Eliza, please heed my advice. I only wish to spare you pain. Your caring father - poor Alistair would have hated to see you suffer, and by his fault.”</p><p>Suffer by his fault? That was wrong - it was all wrong. Everything about the situation felt strange and different. The Mrs Crompton seated before her was the same woman who had spoken to them, supported them, warmed them with her kindness for months on end. Yet she was utterly alien. There was something about her that Eliza could not grasp - something that scared her. Was it Mrs Crompton’s fault? Was it her, Eliza, going mad? It was all too much.</p><p>“I’m so sorry.” Eliza’s voice came out strangled. “Thank you for your kind offer. Truly. But I need some time to think on it. I apologise.”</p><p>Mrs Crompton nodded, resigned. Her face was still open, her smile still kind. Any doubt Eliza felt might as well be born of a mirage.</p><p>“Of course. You’re still mourning - it’s very cruel to force you to deal with this so soon. I understand, my dear Eliza. Take all the time you need.” She bent to Eliza again and pushed the sausage rolls towards her. “Let’s not speak any more of it until you’re ready. Will you have another sausage roll? Let’s chat like old friends.”</p><p>Eliza could do no such thing. She feared the food would stay stuck in her throat. Her thoughts scattered, her mind in disarray, she stood up.</p><p>“I apologise.” She repeated. “I must go but I will call on you soon. Thank you again so much for your kindness.” She took her leave as quickly as she could manage without giving offence, and escaped into the street.</p><p>Evening had fallen and Eliza tripped over some uneven cobbles. She caught herself onto a streetlight. What had just happened? Had she just jeopardised a great offer on a whim, and offended her father’s last remaining friend? What had come over her? She should go back right now and agree to everything. She stopped, paused, then kept walking away. She did not want to take the offer. It was too good. There were bound to be strings attached, and that she saw none only made her more wary. The company had no worth, no real value, no clients. For all that Mrs Crompton had been kind, her most believable sentence had been “I’m not doing it for charity.” And if that was true, then all the rest was in question.</p><p>There was something in the company, or around the company, that had value to Mrs Compton, great value indeed. She had been too insistent. She had thought Eliza desperate - Saint, they all thought her desperate. Valentine had thought the same thing. They were not wrong, but she would not let her despair jostle her into going along with their whims. She clenched her fist. At least Valentine had been straightforward, or so he seemed. Mrs Crompton had been anything but.</p><p>The streets were empty and quiet as Eliza neared home. She turned the last corner, ready to rest for the night, and find the answers that eluded her. She heard the bang a fraction before she felt the burn in her left arm.</p><p>On reflex, she jumped into a doorway. She crouched there, drew her own gun, and listened. She was vaguely aware of pain in her shoulder, but she had more pressing issues. Whoever had shot her had not walked away. Her shelter was precarious. Crates on the other side of the road would offer a better one. She considered running to them, when she heard heavy, muffled steps coming her way. The shooter? Probably.</p><p>She held her breath, tried to adjust the volume to the distance. Too far. Too far. Almost. Close enough. She bolted across the street and fired. In a glimpse, she saw a tall man, his face unknown to her, a gun in his hand, lowered. His eyes widened - he had not expected her to be armed. She dove behind the crates before she could figure out if she had hit, but by his loud curse, she gathered she must have.</p><p>She steadied herself. If he kept coming, she’d have to fire again - but he would think twice now. The steps drew closer, then stopped on the other side of the crates.</p><p>“Dumb bitch. Don’t think I couldn’t shoot you between the eyes if I wanted to.” His voice was low and rough, his anger piercing through its dirty grain. Eliza felt terror emerge in her stomach, but she pushed it down - not now.</p><p>“This is your warning. Think twice about the airship thing. Or I won’t miss you next time. And I won’t shoot you just once. I’ll make it nice and painful, as payment for my medical bills.” He took a hoarse breath, and she heard him spit. Then his steps resumed, their sound receding, until they disappeared at the end of the road.</p><p>Eliza stayed huddled behind the crates for a long while, her head empty and cold. Then her thoughts latched onto the man’s words. “Think twice about the airship thing.” Valentine. She groaned. Had he lost his mind? Did he send someone to threaten her into working with him? That did not seem right - yet he was the connection.</p><p>Damn it all. Damn them all and their schemes and their desires. “Damn them!” she said out loud. She got up on shaking legs, almost fell down. No, that would not do. Eliza’s teeth clenched in protest. Who did they think they all were? From the spot where she had buried her fear, her anger rose and spread through her, steadied her. Very well. She did not have a plan yet, but one thing was clear: she would not go down without a fight.</p><p>First things first. She knew where his manor was - everyone knew. The man did not hide his address. It was time to return the courtesy of his night visit. Eliza holstered her gun, and her brain still frozen, she half-walked, half-stumbled to Eltcreed Valentine’s home.</p><hr/><p>It only took a moment for Eltcreed to grasp the situation.</p><p>“You’ve been shot,” he said.</p><p>Miss Nemory glared at him.</p><p>“You look surprised. You’re telling me you had nothing to do with this?”</p><p>“Nothing, but you knew that already. You wouldn’t have come to see me, alone, at night, if you truly thought I was behind what happened to you. Which makes me wonder, Miss Nemory: why did you come here?”</p><p>“Why indeed.” Miss Nemory’s eyes were still on his. He saw beyond her anger, to a small core of fear, of exhaustion, and of despair.</p><p>“Come in,” he said. She did not move.</p><p>“Come in. Or will you refuse my hospitality after letting me abuse yours so recently?”</p><p>His words had the intended effect. The anger in her eyes flared up, and she pushed past him into his living room. There she stopped in her tracks.</p><p>“Oh. You’re already engaged.” She looked at Ulrik, still seated on his couch, another biscuit in hand. “I better go.”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Eltcreed interrupted her. “In fact, this is serendipitous! Ulrik, meet Miss Nemory, the feisty engineer I’ve been telling you about. Miss Nemory, this dapper young man is Ulrik Ferrie, who specialises in knowledge of all sorts, including many relevant scientific fields.”</p><p>Ulrik’s eyes widened. Miss Nemory’s mouth fell open. They spoke at the same time.</p><p>“This... mess is Miss Nemory?”</p><p>“Ferrie? Like Arcenclimb Ferrie?”</p><p>They both paused, their shock increasing, then spoke again in concert.</p><p>“How do you know about him?”</p><p>“You’re rude.”</p><p>Eltcreed had to laugh. Outspoken people, with little care for how others thought of them. This could be entertaining. He walked closer to them and clapped his hands.</p><p>“Thank you for putting up this show for me, my friends, I do enjoy theatre. However I fear Miss Nemory needs some attention, and we have a lot to discuss. Ulrik, can you behave while I fetch a medpack?”</p><p>Ulrik looked away. Miss Nemory looked at herself. Seeming to take in her bloody shirt, her mud-stained skirt for the first time, she hung her head. Eltcreed took her by her good arm and led her to the couch where he had been seated, softly pushed her onto it. She let him guide her - a sign that she was more rattled than she would let show. Once she had settled in, he grabbed his glass of bourbon and handed it to her.</p><p>“Have this. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”</p><p>She nodded, looked at the glass, and downed the contents in one gulp. Eltcreed observed her with pleasure. A peculiar woman and a gifted professional. This was more than he could have hoped for. As he went to find antiseptic and bandages, he congratulated himself, sotto voce, for catching her before she moved out of his life.</p><hr/><p>The aftertaste of bourbon was hot and tingly in Eliza’s mouth. Its round woodiness coated her tongue, her throat, her stomach. That flavour, the stillness in the room, the softness of the couch - and the quiet presence of that young man, Ulrik Ferrie, who looked more wary of her than she of him… Her nerves unknotted and slowly she regained her mooring.</p><p>She raised her eyes and observed her new companion. His hair was a rare pale green and his face looked tense, but neither angry nor ill-willed - a familiar expression. She almost smiled. She knew her way around cats.</p><p>“I apologise for calling you rude,” she said. He looked at her. “I must be quite a sight.”</p><p>He did not answer, but his face relaxed. After a while, he spoke in turn.</p><p>“How do you know of Arcenclimb? Very few people do.”</p><p>“My father mentioned him often. He studied technology where he could find it, and he picked no sides. The Heights, the Depths - any knowledge was good enough for him. But the knowledge he sought the most, he told me, was Arcenclimb Ferrie’s. He researched his work, but couldn’t find most of its source. He called it his “missing piece”.”</p><p>At that, the young man sat a little taller and looked a little proud.</p><p>“I’ve heard of your father. He tried to build an airship.”</p><p>Eliza felt the usual pang in her heart, but today it was somewhat muffled. She nodded.</p><p>“He did. It did him no good.”</p><p>“He should have just gone to Elt.” Ulrik declared, and pressed his back into the couch.</p><p>“Elt?”</p><p>“Eltcreed. The guy whose alcohol you’re drinking.”</p><p>These two were on pet name basis? Interesting. Eltcreed Valentine and his theatrical, overbearing presence - Ulrik Ferrie, who spoke out of turn, bristled when prodded, yet seemed soft enough behind the mask. That Valentine had such a candid friend was unexpected, and spoke in his favour.</p><p>“Ah. But my father did go to him. He borrowed from his bank -“</p><p>“From his bank. I said go to him, directly. Elt told me they met a few years ago and he offered to bankroll him, but your father flat-out refused. Didn’t take any partners, he said. Elt left him alone after that.”</p><p>“Oh.” So that was how it went. Eliza was not surprised, and yet she wondered. It was true that her father had taken no partners, but she thought it was a lack of decent options that made it so. Valentine was rich, and he seemed passionate about the subject.</p><p>“Why did he refuse?” She mused out loud.</p><p>“I have my theory.” Valentine’s voice sounded behind her. Soon he was at her side, a medpack in hand, and a lopsided smile on his face. “May I tell you about it while I clean your wound?”</p><p>“I’ll do it myself,” Eliza answered.</p><p>“I wish I could obey and leave you to it, Miss Nemory, but you only have one good hand and the wound is hard to reach. Please let me.”</p><p>That was true. She sighed and slid her shirt off, low enough to bare her shoulder to the open air. The wound was shallow - the bullet had only grazed her, fortunately - but it had bled a lot and still stung. She said “Go on then,” and turned to her audience, only to find two pairs of raised eyebrows, and on Ulrik’s face, a deep blush.</p><p>“Oh by the Saint! I studied engineering, I’m used to being around men. Stop gawking or I’ll go and clean it on my own.” Ulrik looked away, abashed, while Valentine laughed and sat down next to her.</p><p>“I notice you referred to the Saint. Your father was always curious about the Heights, as I recall. Speaking of him…” He pressed a cotton pad soaked with alcohol to her skin, and Eliza clenched her teeth to keep herself from crying out. “Tell me if it hurts too much.” She waved his words away and he continued. “Your father was a clever man. He researched airships because he was passionate about them, certainly, but he had another reason, a more practical one. Can you hazard a guess?”</p><p>“Air travel would be a boon. It would be a much faster and more practical means than anything else we have now. It could carry people and wares over long distances. The economy would boom, the Depths would become more united. Is that reason enough?”</p><p>Valentine chuckled.</p><p>“Yes, of course you would know all that, your father must have spoken to you often about his dreams. Yet I can’t help but notice you left out the most important part.”</p><p>He wrapped gauze around the wound, his hands deft and gentle, reassuring. His touch should have irked her - the mere thought of him had annoyed her an hour ago. But now, instead, it drew all confusion, all fear from her mind. Seated like this, an unwanted guest, Eliza felt more welcome than she had in a while, anywhere. She was almost tempted to trust him.</p><p>“Tell me, then,” she said.</p><p>“The Heights, Miss Nemory.” He watched her reaction. “We have enough connections to the other territories in the Depths. Air travel would facilitate them, that’s true. But it would not change the core of the situation. What it would change is how easy it is for us to connect to the Heights, and they to us. Have you ever been to the Heights?”</p><p>“I have not.”</p><p>“There’s only one way to get there. A lift travels up and down a pillar and can carry five, six people tops, at a time. That’s not enough to establish a lasting relationship between our territories. But what if an airship could carry a hundred people? What if we could fly several of them at the same time? The Depths and the Heights would become connected then - as if the pillar never existed at all.”</p><p>Valentine stopped talking and silence stretched in the room for a little while, interrupted only by the sound of his handiwork. Eliza let her body relax, and considered his words.</p><p>The Heights had cut themselves off from the Depths a long while ago. The relationship had been reestablished recently, in part thanks to Valentine’s efforts as an envoy. But it was a tenuous link. Most of her compatriots still saw the Heights as a strange, distant place, and spared it no affection. She was sure the reverse was true. Airborne travel would change that, and change it fast. There was potential there, but also, she perceived, danger. Her eyes narrowed.</p><p>“There, all done. My lady is patched up.” Valentine gave her arm a little squeeze, and readjusted his glasses. She saw a neat bandage applied with competence where her wound had been. He had done this right, at least. She drew her shirt closed.</p><p>He resumed: “You’ve come to your own conclusions, haven’t you? Airships have potential but-“</p><p>“They present a political challenge,” Eliza concluded. “Or they would, if they were feasible.”</p><p>“Indeed.” Valentine nodded and she saw new appreciation in his eyes. For some reason, she felt flattered by it. “You father knew as much. He would not have let a young man like I was then, untried and unproven, so close to his research. He would not trust me with the implications.”</p><p>That rang true, and it made another piece fall into place. She had to hand it to him: for all that Valentine acted like a spoiled child, he could talk straight. He looked her over.</p><p>“Your wound should be healed in a few days. The shooter had bad aim, or he wasn’t going for the kill.”</p><p>“He was not,” Eliza agreed. “For that matter, I think I hit him worse than he hit me.”</p><p>Valentine smiled.</p><p>“Miss Nemory, you’re full of surprises. You can shoot?”</p><p>“Passably. The point is, he told me this was only a warning.”</p><p>“Ah.” Valentine’s eyes focused behind his glasses, and Eliza saw he had guessed what came next. Ulrik had turned back to them - she had his attention, too.</p><p>“He told me to rethink my involvement with airships. I thought perhaps he tried to convince me to work with you, but now…”</p><p>“Mmhm. He was telling you the exact opposite.”</p><p>There was a silence again. Eliza felt a chill down her back. Someone knew about her father’s research, knew there was a chance she might pick it up. And that someone was intent on making her stop. It was almost as if there was value in her father’s work, after all - a thought Eliza had had twice that evening.</p><p>Ulrik was the first to speak up.</p><p>“You were trying to convince me this is a safe project, and I almost fell for it, like an idiot… Working for you will get me killed and no mistake.”</p><p>So he was on board, was he? Eliza looked at him with renewed curiosity. He would be a handful as a colleague - prickly and sensitive. But he was intelligent, that much was clear. And he carried the Ferrie name, might have access to Ferrie means. What if…</p><p>“Miss Nemory.” Valentine’s voice sounded soft, close to her ear. “I apologise for this. Although I’m not directly responsible, it seems my offer, that you never welcomed in the first place, has thrown you into a dangerous situation. I understand if you'd prefer never to hear of it again. We can find an arrangement as regards your debts.”</p><p>Eliza wanted to laugh. If his words were calculated, he was good; but she suspected he was being honest. The irony of the situation did not escape her. To be hearing this now - exactly what she had wanted three days ago, three hours too late.</p><p>“Of course… Of course I can't go back to that now. For the first time in years, I’m made to see my father might have had a point. His research interests an awful lot of people, it turns out. And I’m asked to give it up for pretty money, then I'm threatened into ignoring it? Bugger that. I’m in. I'll work on an airship for you.”</p><p>Ulrik looked at her like she was crazy - and perhaps she was. Perhaps the madness that had taken her father had gotten to her too. On the other hand, Valentine’s concerned face shifted into an expression of childish joy.</p><p>“Indeed! That's the best surprise - fantastic news! If I find your shooter, I’ll make sure to buy him a drink, after I break his fingers one by one.”</p><p>He smiled, but Eliza felt his words were no joke. This man would take some navigating. What was she getting into? That was a question for later. Old and new excitement pumped through her veins. She felt her hesitations shuffle and click into certainty, like a well-wound mechanism.</p><p>“Welcome on board, Miss Nemory!” Valentine extended his right hand, and after a fraction of a second, she took it. His handshake was firm and warm, an iron grip in a silk glove. On the other couch, Ulrik looked away. “It’ll be hard work,” he muttered. So it would. But now, it was work Eliza was eager to do.</p><p>She watched as Valentine fetched her a clean glass and filled it with bourbon, as Ulrik made a show of ignoring the drink and reaching for more sweets. A whimsical bear and a capricious cat - and her, sitting in the middle. What did that make her? Their tamer, or their meal? Whatever it was, for a moment there, she had felt safe. Eliza decided to trust that feeling. She reclined on the couch and looked at the two men.</p><p>"All right, gentlemen. What's next?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Although Miss Nemory had agreed to join the project, Eltcreed could still sense her uncertainty. They spent a portion of the evening discussing technical details, she and Ulrik going toe to toe.</p><p>While her eyes had coloured with increased curiosity as the conversation progressed, there was no conviction there, and no fire. It would have to be stoked. The odds were not in their favour, even he had to admit - but if anyone could do it, it was them. Old science, young science, and he as the alliance of politics and money to fund, protect, and support them. He only needed his lead engineer to believe in the outcome; and to achieve that, he had an ace up his sleeve.</p><p>"Miss Nemory, would you be free to start work tomorrow?"</p><p>She gave him the most honest smile he had seen on her face yet.</p><p>"I think I've started already. I should bill you for tonight."</p><p>"Oh my, you drive a hard bargain! Fine, I'll count overtime against your debt. Meanwhile, there's something I'd like to show you, but it's getting late. I suggest we get some sleep and in the morning I'll take you there."</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>"Just give me a time and a meeting point."</p><p>"No need for that. Get up when you wish, and we'll leave together after breakfast."</p><p>Miss Nemory's eyes widened, and she stared at him.</p><p>"I beg your pardon. Are you proposing I spend the night… here?"</p><p>Eltcreed was tempted to take advantage of her confusion, tried to overrule himself on the grounds that she was still a hesitant recruit, and failed.</p><p>"Well, my bed is renowned for its comfort. At least, none of my guests has complained."</p><p>Two pairs of eyes turned from him in disgust. Amusing - and somewhat worrisome that his two collaborators were liable to band against him. "That said, the mattress in the spare room is only slightly less plush if quieter quarters have your preference, Miss Nemory."</p><p>She looked tired now.</p><p>"What has my preference, Mr Valentine, is to sleep in my own bed."</p><p>"But between here and your bed there might be people who wish you ill." He pointed at her shoulder, covered by a sleeve that had turned stiff with dried, brown blood.</p><p>"All the same." She frowned. "I have agreed to become your employee. I don't believe that qualifies us to move in together. Besides, I have made a habit of dealing with my own issues in my own way." With that, she stood up.</p><p>Eltcreed had the impulse to hold her back, but he saw on her face that would be impossible. Her pride, again… He had to admire how committed she was to it, yet at the same time, he deplored the danger to which it would subject her. She found herself with a target on her back, and instead of taking precautions to hide it from view, she would flaunt it - she had more courage than instinct to survive. He could not risk her without guarantee.</p><p>"Very well." He smiled. "I find myself again a jilted man! You have no sympathy for my poor heart, Miss Nemory."</p><p>"Good night, Mr Valentine. Good night, Ulrik." She disregarded his remark and moved to the door.</p><p>"Night, Eliza," Ulrik replied, and Eltcreed felt a pang of envy that these two cats had so quickly found common territory - that somewhere between drag and lift, they had shifted to using each other's first name. But so what? Being churlish was unlike him. He shook the feeling off.</p><p>"I'll see you out." He hurried to open the door for his guest and walked with her into the garden. They took the few steps that separated them from the road in silence, and Eltcreed saw how, under cover of the evening, Miss Nemory's shoulders had slumped, her neck had taken a tired bend. She barely looked him in the eye as she bade him good night.</p><p>As soon as she had crossed the gate, Eltcreed sent a faint sign to his guards. They ran up to him and stood to attention.</p><p>"Send two men to protect her. Discreet ones. They must make sure she doesn't notice."</p><p>The guards nodded and disappeared into the dark. Her own issues in her own way - that was laudable but misguided. If his suspicions proved correct, the scope of what they were against was incommensurable with her means, and he could only hope it would not surpass his own. Time would tell. His worries assuaged for the evening, Eltcreed made his way back inside.</p><p>He found Ulrik still seated, lost in thought, a biscuit half-way to his mouth.</p><p>"Well, my dear Ulrik, this was lucky, wouldn't you say?"</p><p>Ulrik shot him a glance.</p><p>"She'd hate you calling it that."</p><p>Eltcreed let himself fall on the couch and crossed his legs on its back.</p><p>"Indeed. But I will make sure everything turns out for the best."</p><p>"You're too confident." Ulrik's tone was grumbling, but not dissatisfied. He paused. "She's not bad. This might actually work."</p><p>That was high praise coming from his friend. Eltcreed smiled. Ulrik stared at him.</p><p>"Don't screw this up, Elt. You dragged me into it. If you make her hate you with your stupid jokes, I swear…"</p><p>"What stupid jokes? You wound me." Eltcreed tried to present a front of innocence, but in truth, the boy was right. This was an important partnership, and Eltcreed had always known better than to let his appetite for flirting jeopardise his plans. He should be careful to keep the relationship above board unless he was at least prepared to follow through. Was he?</p><p>He closed his eyes and thought back on his interactions with Miss Nemory. It was too soon to tell for sure what he thought of her - but the idea of prodding and teasing her again brought him great pleasure. She seemed immune to it, which was entertaining enough. But if she opened up… Eltcreed's smile widened. If she did, he found he might not dislike it.</p><p>He heard Ulrik click his tongue at him before retiring for the night, and with all the distractions gone, he let his thoughts coalesce around the new information he had received, a whole diagram building up in his mind. A new stage, but a great many players. He drew question marks around faces, added some new ones to the equation. Only suspicions, no certainties. And in the middle of it all stood Miss Nemory, tall and proud, looking at him, mild accusation in her eyes.</p><hr/><p>Eliza woke up late the next morning. Adrenaline and blood loss had driven her on a taut string until she came home - safe and sound, with not even a suspicious shadow in the streets she had followed - but once there, she had collapsed on her bed, still dressed, and had slept through the night. She might have carried on, had a fluffy, bulky shape not jumped onto her chest.</p><p>"Mr Paws. Shoo. Ugh… Yes, I know, you want food. Give me a minute."</p><p>Mr Paws cried a plaintive meow in her left ear, then scuttled to the kitchen. Eliza followed him there, still sleepy, and put fresh food in his bowl. He threw himself on it while she sat back to watch him eat. A peaceful morning. Normal enough. It was easy to forget…</p><p>She jumped up. Damn. Damn damn damn. The events of the previous evening came back to her in a rush. Valentine… She groaned. It would have to be Mr Valentine henceforth. Or Eltcreed?</p><p>That damned man was her boss now, wasn't he? Not only that - he had taken care of her yesterday, had been attentive, pleasant even. She put her hand over her wounded shoulder. It smarted, but much less than it should have. He had proved rather good at patching her up - and good at making sense of the situation, too. It annoyed her to admit it, but he had been of great help in more ways than one. Yet he was still a maddening man, too fond of his jokes, too irreverent.</p><p>At least Ulrik, it turned out, was decent enough. The conversation they had about engineering specifics made the airship sound less impossible. It was still a long shot, though, and most probably a wild goose chase.</p><p>Eliza rubbed her cheek. In the light of day, all the reasons why she had refused to go along with the project blinked in her mind's eye. They were still good reasons - and that was before the threats, before the bullet. And yet… And yet she found she did not regret her decision. For with those reasons, she was also reminded of the thick grease in a sausage roll, of the contempt in the thug's voice. She bristled. The option she had picked was the worst one, to the exclusion of all others. Now she had to commit to it.</p><p>She was supposed to meet with Valentine. But where? She had been so irate at his nonsense the night before that she had left without confirming the appointment. Damn it. She would have to go to his residence; there was nothing for it.</p><p>Eliza changed her bandages, made herself presentable, recharged her gun, and stepped outside.</p><p>As soon as she had crossed the threshold, she heard a soft drawl coming from her right.</p><p>"Good morning, Miss Nemory."</p><p>She started, then caught herself.</p><p>"Mr Valentine."</p><p>"Ah, I take it today you won't poke me and tell me how much you hate me."</p><p>He looked pleased with his remark, and Eliza's embarrassment fought it out with her annoyance, each cancelling the other until she surrendered and gave him a smile.</p><p>"Maybe later."</p><p>That drew a short laugh out of him.</p><p>"In my distress at your rejection, I never gave you a meeting point. Therefore, here I am, come to rectify yesterday's mistakes. How is your shoulder?"</p><p>"It's all right, considering. How long have you been waiting?"</p><p>"Not long at all."</p><p>Eliza doubted that. He had been settled against the wall like a man who had been thinking for some time. She was about to chide him for it, but he spoke again.</p><p>"This is my first time seeing you in the open light of day, Miss Nemory, and I must say - you look delightful."</p><p>Of course. She glimpsed that the charm offensive would never stop. Sweet words, sweet gestures - she felt pleased despite herself, but they came to him too easily. Inconsequential, like a pretty perfume in the wind. She looked away.</p><p>"Thank you. Shall we?"</p><p>"As my lady wishes."</p><p>He extended her his arm, and Eliza wavered for a beat - embarrassed by the ordinary gesture, coming as it was after his flirting and his jests. But that was his problem, not hers. She should not change her behaviour to accommodate his eccentricity. She put her hand on his forearm, lightly, as one did when walking alongside a distant acquaintance. His muscles responded to her weight, firm and flexible like a spring, and he led her forward with effortless grace. He must be a good dancer - the thought crossed her mind, then floated away as they walked through the iron-garbed streets of Liberalitas.</p><hr/><p>Eltcreed had hoped for a peaceful walk to their destination, but Miss Nemory had woken a good hour too late for that to happen. The main street was iridescent in the morning sun, and crowds drifted across it like so many kaleidoscope shards. Most citizens acknowledged Eltcreed's passage and saluted him with a raised hat or a small curtsy, while others purposefully ignored him or slithered away. Some of his lady friends greeted him with a coquettish smile, then discreetly carried on when they noticed he had company. That was all usual enough, but among the curious glances the woman at his arm attracted, he was sure, hid those that knew exactly who she was. This walk would be perceived as a declaration of war, likely. Eltcreed found he relished the prospect. But would she?</p><p>He looked at Miss Nemory from the corner of his eye. He had asked her to elucidate some fine points of the engineering process, and she was patiently going through a description of the qualities of aluminium - a lighter metal that had a small chance of getting them airborne. She was looking straight ahead, but her eyes were bright, her voice animated. Eltcreed chuckled, and she stopped mid-sentence.</p><p>"What is it, Mr Valentine?"</p><p>"Nothing, Miss Nemory. I'm only a little sad that none of my jokes or compliments can produce as nice a smile on your face as does the talk of metal density."</p><p>The smile disappeared.</p><p>"Have you been listening to my explanations? You asked for them, after all."</p><p>"I have, of course! Aluminium is one third as dense as iron. Is that right?"</p><p>She eyed him with suspicion, and he forced himself to stay serious while he returned her gaze. After a beat, Miss Nemory sighed and looked away.</p><p>"Where was I? Yes... The problem with aluminium is, on its own, it's much too soft. But my father's research relied on the premise that we could conceivably melt it with something else..."</p><p>Just as she was about to continue, a voice interrupted them from a few steps on their right.</p><p>"Mr Valentine, dear?"</p><p>Eltcreed turned his head and found a woman waving at him, whose face he did not recognise. She looked to be in her forties - elegant enough, but with a sort of earnest hunger on her features that made an unpleasant impression. He stopped nonetheless.</p><p>"My apologies, Miss Nemory. This lady seems to need a moment of my time."</p><p>Without letting go of Miss Nemory, he navigated them closer to the woman. She shot a dirty look to his companion, then broke into a broad smile, and called to a girl stood behind her, her back turned.</p><p>"Lysastra? Don't be shy, my dove."</p><p>The girl faced them reluctantly, and Eltcreed grasped the situation. He remembered seeing "Lysastra" at a party, a little while ago. She was then as she looked now - a timid little thing, pretty and sweet-faced, but shifty like a hare, and terrified of him. Eltcreed did not fancy himself an ogre.</p><p>He politely took the mother's hand first, then the girl's, and stopped short of putting his lips to either, as was proper.</p><p>"My ladies. A very pleasant day, isn't it? This lovely sunshine suits you both. How can I help you?"</p><p>At the simple compliment, the mother looked ready to burst, and the daughter ready to run. Eltcreed felt pity for her.</p><p>"We just meant to say hello," the mother said, elbowing her daughter so she would raise her head and face him. The poor girl almost had tears in her eyes. Eltcreed raked his brain for a memory - something, anything that could help her. Ah, there it was.</p><p>"Miss Dowser, I remember fondly the lovely conversation we had, you, me and Mr Sedell."</p><p>He paused to gauge the effect. Sure enough, the daughter blushed, and the mother looked surprised. Paul Sedell was a decent young man, as far as he knew, a soft and reasonably smart student who was on track to make something of himself. Lysastra Dowser could do worse. The boy was shy, though. They had seemed close at the party, but it sounded like he had not dared announce his courtship. Well, that was something Eltcreed could hurry along.</p><p>"Speaking of which, I am throwing a little ball soon, a modest gathering, but I believe Mr Sedell will be in attendance. It would be my pleasure to welcome Miss Dowser as well if you would allow it, madam?"</p><p>Lysastra stood taller by almost a foot, and her eyes took an entirely different shine. The mother looked at her, looked at Miss Nemory, looked at Eltcreed, and he saw the calculations unfold in her brain. Finally, her lips burst open around her teeth again.</p><p>"But of course, Mr Valentine. It would be an honour."</p><p>In truth, she had nothing to lose. Her daughter gained entrance to Eltcreed's soirees, and since the Eltcreed case was lost, a new, more pliable target would do just as well. Eltcreed stifled a sigh of relief on everyone's behalf.</p><p>"You can expect the invitation very soon, my ladies. Meanwhile, please excuse me, but I need to attend to my companion."</p><p>He shot Miss Nemory a glance. She had obviously gathered what was happening and observed the mother with undisguised hostility. He had to master himself not to laugh - she looked very much like her cat. Instead, he put his hand on his forearm, where Miss Nemory's thin fingers lay, and felt them curl a little under his touch.</p><p>"Have a wonderful day, my ladies."</p><p>He made a shallow bow and felt Miss Nemory do an equally shallow curtsy. Then they were on the move again.</p><p>After a while, she sighed.</p><p>"You can release my hand, you know. I wasn't going to claw at the woman."</p><p>Eltcreed allowed himself to laugh this time.</p><p>"You certainly looked like you might."</p><p>She smiled in return, then turned serious again.</p><p>"I dislike people who'd use their daughters as bargaining chips. She would have sold her to you without a second thought."</p><p>Eltcreed agreed with that and therefore stayed silent. Miss Nemory seemed to waver; then she carried on.</p><p>"I must say, though. You were... rather decent with her."</p><p>She looked astonished at the fact. Eltcreed chuckled.</p><p>"What kind of man do you take me for, Miss Nemory?"</p><p>"Well, she is pretty, and among other things, you're a flirt."</p><p>There was a light accusation in her tone, a judgment of his character. Eltcreed was not unused to that, and he wanted to laugh it off. Yet he also wanted this woman's esteem. They were moving into an endeavour that mattered to him, first of all - and besides, he felt suddenly, she was someone whose esteem would be worth having.</p><p>He cocked his head and looked at her from above his glasses.</p><p>"That judgement is both true and untrue. I do enjoy beauty in all its forms. I like pleasure; I love love. I'll admit to all that easily. But the word flirt comes laden with a smidge of falsehood. That I would recuse. I strive only to say things that I mean."</p><p>Her eyes rose and met his. She was listening to him with earnest attention. He could see the cogs in her brain turning, evaluating him, gauging him on the scale of her trust. Those eyes - pale grey, cold but perceptive, hiding much of her, revealing much of him. Eltcreed felt an impulse to reach to the other side of that mirror.</p><p>"For example, Miss Nemory… I mean it when I say you're very attractive. I'd gladly court you if you let me."</p><p>He caught a lock of her hair with light fingertips, and her eyes widened, before freezing like a pool in winter. She swatted him away.</p><p>"That's an inappropriate proposition, and you know it. Stop being a child."</p><p>Did her voice lack a bit of assurance? No, that was an illusion - she looked furious at him. Oh well. That was perhaps a thing he meant and should not have said, but eyes, searching eyes, especially so pretty, always drew honesty out of him. Miss Nemory's face coloured with impatience and she strode forward on her own. She walked fast, and Eltcreed hastened to catch up.</p><p>"I jest, Miss Nemory! My apologies. This child likes his playtime... I'll stop, I promise. Wait up!"</p><p>In response, she quickened her pace. She did not look back until they reached another crossroads. Only then did she concede to put her hand back on his arm - but once she did, they resumed their conversation companionably, as if Eltcreed had never misstepped. Quick to anger, quick to forgive. He started to see beyond Miss Nemory's aloofness, and there was much more there, he found, than stubborn pride.</p><hr/><p>On the rest of the way, while explaining the properties and uses of the various alloys her father had attempted, Eliza kept pondering Eltcreed Valentine. He was eager to help in ways that were not always obvious. He had helped that timid girl, before. She believed now that he had tried to help her father too, back in the day, and that he was trying to help her. Yet he was also a cold man; beneath his superficial playfulness, she struggled to find a softer core. And that playfulness was cheap indeed - that had been confirmed by the glances he had exchanged with the pretty women they passed, who seemed to know him all too well.</p><p>Not that it should matter. All she needed him to be was a decent boss.</p><p>They walked along the whole length of Main Street, under a level of attention that was unusual to Eliza, and that she did not altogether enjoy. At some point, she felt a piercing gaze on her back, and turning her head, she noticed Mrs Crompton, accompanied by her valet. Both stared as she passed by, and she saw no kindness in their eyes. Well. At least this would spare her an unpleasant conversation. She turned away and faced the pavement for the rest of the walk.</p><p>Soon they reached an industrial area. Hangars stood, tall and gleaming, in the sun. Everything smelled like new industry, fresh ideas, money. They kept walking. As the hangars grew smaller and their iron covered with a thin layer of rust, Eltcreed's steps slowed down. He stopped before an older building, large but decrepit in places. It was partly built out of stone - an architecture that dated it back to a few decades ago.</p><p>Eltcreed cleared his throat.</p><p>"Miss Nemory, I bid you welcome to our new offices."</p><p>She kept silent and waited.</p><p>"Well, by new, I mean new to you. I've been around this place a few times in the past, quite a few times really, but I have been less assiduous as of late. New duties taking the place of old interests. But that will all change now."</p><p>He smiled, and for the first time, Eliza saw in his smile an honest joy, something pure and untempered by need, by duty, or by politeness.</p><p>"This will do nicely," she answered. "It's large enough to accommodate the offices, the materials and…" Was it a lie? Hopefully not. "The finished ship."</p><p>He looked relieved at that. With a flourish that made her stifle a grin, he ushered her in.</p><p>Inside, the hangar was vast, a little dusty, and very empty. On the top floor, several cubicles indicated that there had been engineers working here - it was all serviceable and well arranged. The issue, of course, was the lack of everything else. No people, no leftover metals, no traces of past research.</p><p>"This is where you've been working on airships?" she guessed.</p><p>Eltcreed nodded.</p><p>"It is! I know it's drab to look at now. Nothing much was serviceable, so we got rid of it all - except some documents, that you'll find upstairs, and one other thing. After you, my lady."</p><p>He stood at the foot of the spiral staircase and showed her the way up. Eliza climbed the steps.</p><p>From above, the hangar looked better. Sunlight streamed through its tall windows, and away from the dust, Eliza could almost imagine how an aircraft could nestle here, its tall sails expanding under the soft light. She breathed in, and beyond the stale smell of long-forgotten spaces, she thought she caught a fresh breeze, something clean and pale like the empty sky.</p><p>Eltcreed soon joined her, hands behind his back. He had a childish grin on his face, and Eliza knew he was going to turn this into some sort of game. All right then. She looked at him.</p><p>"I'll give you three guesses, Miss Nemory."</p><p>Here it was. She would have rolled her eyes, but he looked so… happy? She did not have the heart.</p><p>"It's a file," she tried.</p><p>"One down, two to go."</p><p>"It's a material."</p><p>"It is not!"</p><p>Pulled into the game against her best judgement, Eliza focused and tried to find an appropriate response.</p><p>"It's… an experiment?"</p><p>"Aha! Close enough. I suppose I'll let you have this one!"</p><p>He brought forward the object he had been hiding.</p><p>It was an ovaloid contraption, relatively small - about two feet long. The bottom part was made of copper and seemed to be a tiny engine, with a key lodged in one of its ends. The top part was a fabric pocket, hermetically closed and filled with… air?</p><p>"What is this?" Eliza asked, but she had a suspicion she already knew. Her mind was making calculations, inferring conclusions, and if this was what she thought it was, it was a simple but excellent idea.</p><p>"Let me demonstrate. This will tell you more than a thousand words could."</p><p>Eltcreed stood next to her and put the little ship - for Eliza was certain that was a ship - on the balustrade. Then he let go. The ship rose a little and stabilised - floating, immobile.<br/>Lighter than air.</p><p>Eliza waited for the rest. Eltcreed caught the little ship again, and turned the key in the engine, winding it up, until a tiny roar came out of it, like a newborn kitten's. <br/>Then he pushed it forward, and the ship took flight.</p><p>The small engine propelled it away from the balcony and slowly, slowly, across the hangar. After a few feet, the engine sputtered and ground to a halt, but the machine still hovered there, almost forlorn.</p><p>"We'll fetch it when we come down - that's what the ribbon is for."</p><p>Eltcreed looked at the ship like it was his child - with sincere delight and pride.</p><p>Eliza suppressed an odd urge to applaud.</p><p>"I see. So you had the idea to fill some fabric with a gas much lighter than air - I'm going to assume hydrogen - then attached a light enough engine to it, and now you have a contraption that floats in the air like a little balloon but also moves. Ingenious."</p><p>Eltcreed was observing her and taking evident joy in her conclusions.</p><p>"But now," she continued, "you have an issue. Several issues that all have to do with making it bigger."</p><p>"Exactly. Do you see why your father's research on light alloys is of great interest? Fabric on a large enough scale to transport people would be impracticable, unsafe, impossible."</p><p>"Indeed. Dad looked into heavier-than-air ships, but the materials he explored for their durability and their weight would apply to this, too. They would do very nicely, indeed. Lighter than air. What an interesting idea."</p><p>She could feel the smile pushing her cheeks apart.</p><p>"It would have its limitations, of course…"</p><p>"Yes: these would be slow ships, and they would transport a limited amount of people, because of the weight ratio. But Miss Nemory, they fly."</p><p>So they did. So they would. It could work, after all - and once again, Eltcreed Valentine, for all his big talk, proved he could hold his promises.</p><p>She turned to look at him. He still watched the ship, with the happiness that he had worn like a new face since they had walked into the hangar. Eliza chuckled. He turned to look at her.</p><p>"What makes you smile so, Miss Nemory?"</p><p>"You do! You've been very different since we arrived here."</p><p>"Ah." He observed her, and she felt him try and reach beyond her eyes again, with that penetrating purple gaze of his. "Good different or bad different?"</p><p>"More human different. I can almost make sense of you."</p><p>He stayed quiet for a while.</p><p>"Miss Nemory, can I tell you a secret?" He asked, finally.</p><p>His voice was earnest, and Eliza found herself bending closer to him, to better hear what he was about to say. But then his smile split his face in two, and she listened to the beginning of his giggle as he continued, "I am in fact a mythical creature. I only become a human in the presence of pretty princesses, particularly those interested in science. You are turning me into a human, Miss Nemory!"</p><p>She turned her back to him.</p><p>"Why do I even bother?"</p><p>She heard him laugh behind her until he hiccuped, then caught his breath.</p><p>"I'm sorry. You looked so serious just now; I had to… But the truth is, this is a special place for me. A place from before public life, before the leadership and the power. Please, Miss Nemory. I'm being honest now."</p><p>He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she spun around with it.</p><p>"Once your life has been pledged to the public, it can be hard to remember who you used to be. You belong to others, and as a result, your borders become... Fuzzy. You have to be what people need you to be. That probably sounds like nonsense to you..."</p><p>Eliza looked at him and found a small edge where his quiet coolness used to be. Honest indeed. And empty?</p><p>"I think I understand, although I cannot relate. I never held public responsibilities, nor do I want them. What I'm interested in is knowledge, and the freedom to pursue it."</p><p>"Ah yes, of course. You and Ulrik are similar in that way. Both of you only want to belong to yourself. I used to envy that, but now I know I couldn't be content with it. I let people like you seek the knowledge so that I can use it to lead the way to something better. Or so I hope." He paused and smiled. "Mind you, Ulrik has failed at his plan - his fiancée owns him more than he cares to admit. Which is ironic, since she's the type who's happiest serving others."</p><p>Eltcreed's gaze lit up and softened further when he spoke of Ulrik and his fiancée. There was something both fragile and determined in his expression - a sense of kinship and brotherly love.</p><p>"You care about your friends."</p><p>"I do. There are precious few of them, but they are wonderful people. And you, Miss Nemory? What are your friends like?"</p><p>Eliza cast her eyes down.</p><p>"Friends are not resilient to hardship, in my experience."</p><p>There was a silence after that and Eliza chided herself for saying something so revealing. But soon, Eltcreed continued:</p><p>"Well, my friendship is available to you if you want it. Whenever."</p><p>Eliza did not answer, but she felt a warmth in her chest, and the corners of her mouth rose by a fraction. Words were cheap; she had had many occasions to realise that. Then why did she find this man's promises so appealing?</p><p>She was tempted to jest that he offered her friendship such a short while after offering to court her, but then she met his eyes. In the quiet of this hangar where they stood alone, she perceived that his answer might take her to places she did not wish to go.</p><p>"Miss Nemory," he said. That low hum in his voice, the same as when he flirted with her earlier… And like earlier, her heart gave a constricted little beat. His eyes were sparkling behind his glasses, and a smirk tugged at his lips. Tease.</p><p>She dropped her gaze, dismissed him with a little wave of her hand, and, leaving him to survey the hangar, made her way downstairs. Eltcreed Valentine was serious in business, but in everything else, he ought to be taken with a grain of salt. In different circumstances, she might have enjoyed a night or two with him, for he was an attractive man, she was coming to see - but the project on which she staked her livelihood would not benefit from muddying the waters. Yet his words fluttered in her mind and landed on a little corner of it, and an unexpected fondness spread through her. She flicked her hand across her forehead, to chase useless thoughts away like so many stray hairs, and by the time Eltcreed came down to join her, she was wholly back to business.</p><p>Together, they caught the little aircraft, brought it down, and Eliza observed the construction of its sails, the recesses of its engine. She felt a new hope take root inside her, and as she looked at Eltcreed, she saw a similar hope in his eyes: wide open, focused on the machine, devoid of malice or conceit, they sparkled with the innocence of childhood dreams. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>